


you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains)

by MatildaSwan



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bernie get some therapy, Break-up sex, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Episode Tag, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Graveside Conversations, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Heavy on the emotions as Bernie heals as best she can now that Serena is gone, Mental Health Issues, Occasional Communication via Phone, Raf/Fletch on the peripheries, Stranger Sex, eventually, have I mentioned the angst, healing!angst, it's Elinor obvi bc this is a, old people in clubs can still get some like the kids do now days, s19ep26 It's Only Love if it Hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-16 05:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: Serena knows she needs to leave, and knows she might not come back. Bernie knows she wants to stay, until Serena  is ready to come back.But Bernie will not promise to wait, any more than Serena will promise to return, no matter how much either of them hope for their future together. So they take one last night, to say goodbye, in case they never see each other again.





	1. I want you to love me now

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Mentions of (implied) suicide, depression, grief - all in line with canon events. 
> 
> beta'ed by the every lovely [ktlsyrtis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis) who is a blessing and a darling <3

In the end, Serena finds making the decision to leave remarkably simple.

Of course, it comes after weeks of grief sickness tearing at her mind and clawing at her heart and choking up her throat. Weeks of dodging therapy and drowning in wine, burying herself in Bernie only to turn around and withdraw again without a word of warning. The weeks of lashing out to berate, to belittle, to bully; because what is the point of being good and kind and nice to the world around her when there is nothing in her world worth being good for anymore?

Of course, it comes after she’d held her dead daughter’s heart in her hand and tried to massage it back to rhythm only to lose her all over again. It comes after she’d looked in the mirror of the bathroom where her daughter died, the same mirrors her mother once smashed into shards because she couldn’t recognise herself in them anymore.

(Serena couldn’t recognise herself in them either, so grief sick and sick with grief she lost sight of herself looking back at her. Her mother had dementia and Serena does not, but she knows what it feels like to look in the mirror and not recognise the face staring back. She understands the want to smash the world to dust around her feet. The want to scream and cry and break until there is nothing left.)

It comes after she ran at Jasmine and felt Jac Naylor’s talons in her elbow. After she drove away what little family she had left, after she rebuffed lifeline after lifeline because she hadn’t a clue how to hold on to them. Didn’t know what to do with anyone else’s care so she’d kept drowning, failing to tread water and chucking it in everyone’s faces, no matter how desperately she tried to keep them safe and dry and away from her and all that she’d become.  

It comes after she’s almost destroyed everything she spent the last five years buildings, her whole life building, after she’d tried her damndest to almost destroy her whole life.

After all that, it seems so simple, when the thought comes; unbidden and out of nowhere, standing alone in front of the sink as she scrubs out of Dottie’s surgery.

“You can leave,” she realises, simple as that. Thinks that she could leave this place and everything it stands for: dashed dreams of her name on a plaque with CEO engraved right along side, a once bright future that became a noted career now not likely to get much further. Because this place stands for a dead mother and a dead daughter and their ghosts still echoing around the halls, but she can leave.

Water washes over her wrists as Serena finally realises she has a choice, _the_ choice, to leave. She realises that the choice to leave is hers so she takes it. Takes it and finds Hanssen, hands in her notice. He accepts it, with a touch of reluctance.

“Are you going to get the care you need?” he asks, because that has always been his primary concern.

Serena says she hopes so, that she doesn't know what she needs yet, just that it’s not this. But that she’ll try to find what she needs. He nods, satisfied with her response, and asks when she wants to go.

“Right away?” he suggests and she shakes her head.

“No, I, umm, not just yet.” Because she wants to leave but not this second; wants to be here in this place that has meant so much to her for just a bit longer, before she has to leave for good. He smiles, knowingly, and says there are some deck chairs stashed away in one of the storage cupboards on the roof.

Serena starts, wonders how he always seems to know what she needs, and manages a brief smile of gratitude. Part of her itches to reach out and grasp his elbow, like she once would have, but the rest of her feels thick and heavy because she’s not that Serena anymore. So she nods and thanks him and walks away to her office. Grabs a few things, then heads towards the roof; she doesn’t think to tell anyone, doesn’t want anyone to bother her. Knows they’re all better off without her anyway.

She settles herself, to drink and smoke and listen; she settles herself to think about how she lost herself in Holby, in her hospital, in her ward, with Elinor gone and her world so much darker than it ought to be. She thinks about how she tried to stay, to return to work—to the same place her daughter died. To stay present and here, in Holby, treading water the best she could without letting the grief drown her. She knows her lungs are waterlogged now; knows that she never quite managed to keep her head above water, no matter how much she wanted to, and now she thinks it’s best to leave.

She needs to leave, to find herself, out there in the world, and not here. Thinks this is the best thing for it and settles herself to enjoy her last her hours at Holby.

Until Bernie crashes in, Fletch and Jasmine in tow. Smashes down a door because she couldn’t stand to wait, thought Serena might not give her the time to wait, might be gone before she could get there.

Serena stares at them, their anguish ridden faces, and sees what they thought she might do. She sees what they thought she might do; what she knows she never would. Not here, not like this. _Never_ like that. The thought that she might is laughable so she does: laughs.

She laughs and smiles and jokes as she apologises to Jasmine because she owes it to her. Owes her better than what Serena gave her, even if it had been her fault Elinor died. Only it wasn’t her fault, and Serena owes her the best. Gives her as much as she can before sending her on her way to leave Bernie behind.

It’s just the two of them alone and Bernie is standing there.

“Serena, I…ho—, why?” she asks, her voice breaking.

“Why the roof?” Serena guesses but ignores whatever other reply Bernie might give. “I can’t very well smoke in the office, can I? Health and safety,” she says, taking another long drag.

Doesn’t see what the problem is as she looks up the night sky and not at Bernie. Doesn’t look at Bernie still standing until the seconds become a minute. Then minutes. Then several of them. Several minutes have passed and Bernie is still standing there. Serena flops her head onto the deck chair as she looks at Bernie.

“Haven’t you got a ward to run?”

Bernie finally moves, strides forward and sinks to her knees beside Serena, fingers tight around the wood of the chair. Opens her hand and then clenches again, like she wants to reach out, but won’t. She won’t touch Serena until Serena touches her first.

Serena can see Bernie is shaking, finally sees the red-rimmed eyes and the quivering chin. The lost, hopeless, frantic fear etched all over her face.  

“How could you?” Bernie whispers, because she still doesn’t understand; her voice cracks with the weight of it all in her throat. “I thought you might…why, Serena?”

Serena realises Bernie really did think for a moment, that maybe she would have, that maybe she might. She puts out her cigarette and cups Bernie’s cheek in the palm of her hand. Bernie sniffles, presses herself firm against Serena’s hand and a kiss to the base knuckle of her thumb.

“Join me?”  Serena says, in lieu of an apology. Because she hasn’t got the words, not for that, not right now. And if Bernie is willing, she wants her with her, to stay, just for now.

Bernie chuckles, wet and thick, and blinks back tears. “That chair seems a bit small for two, I’m afraid.”

Serena purses her lips and quirks a brow. “There’s another one, obviously,” she says, “Over in the shed.”

Serena points and Bernie feels rather foolish. Pulls out her phone to message Fletch, asks if he can get Jason home that night because she doesn’t know when she’s coming back, before dragging the chair over to Serena. Puts her phone on silent and back in her pocket. Sinks into the chair and Serena lifts up the blankets for Bernie to slide under.

She does; slides her hand into Serena’s and makes herself comfortable.

They talk, because they are long overdue. They talk around it, because they have so much to discuss, to deal with all of this, and neither of them are quite ready for that just yet. So when Bernie asks, Serena responds with as much as she can.

Because Serena wants to go, she needs to go. To go and to find herself. But she wants to come back, too. She wants to go and come back and she wants to have something to come back to.

But she knows better than to do anything more than hope. Hope that she can manage to find some part of herself again—enough parts of herself to make the semblance of a whole to come back as—and that Bernie will be there when she does.

She won’t ask Bernie to wait for her, any more than she’ll promise to come back. But she hopes that she will come back one day, when she’s done what she needs to. Serena hopes that she will come back one day.

She butts out her smoke, throws back the blankets and stands; steady now hours have passed sitting beside Bernie under the stars.

“Take me home, please,” she asks, holding out her hand to Bernie to beckon her up.

Because before she goes, she’s going to her have her fill of Bernie Wolfe, just in case she never comes back.

 

*

 

The kiss in front of Serena’s front door is bittersweet: Bernie thinks this is goodbye and Serena knows what is to come. She keeps hold of Bernie’s hand when they break apart to stop her leaving as she unlocks the door; lets them in the door and pulls Bernie inside, grip tight on her hand. Bernie looks at her quizzically as she steps out of the porch light and into the dark hallway.

“Stay,” Serena pleads as she puts Bernie’s hands on her hips and reaches up to brush her fingers through her hair. Bernie curls her fingers, dips her head and kisses Serena to say: yes, of course, I’ll stay as long as you want me to.

Serena pulls away and slides her hand back into Bernie’s, doesn’t bother with the light and leads her up the stairs in the dark. The house is quiet and they know it’s empty; Fletch organised for Jason to stay with Alan when Bernie told him she wasn’t coming back. It’s a force of habit, nonetheless, when they tiptoe past Jason’s room until they stop in front of Serena’s door.

Bernie pauses. “Are you sure?”

Serena is, says as much as she turns the handle. Repeats herself as she tugs Bernie along behind her and presses her against the wood.

She does bother to switch the light on this time, wanting to see as much as she can. She wants to remember this as clearly as she can, for all she knows that the traces of wine still left in her body will dull the edges of her memory when she tries to recall it tomorrow, and she wants to see everything.

She wishes she could undress Bernie like she normally would: button by button, piece by piece, peeling back layer after layer til she unzips her fly and slides her usual long black jeans down and off those equally long legs. But they’d not stopped to change before coming home and Bernie is still in scrubs. She strips them off quickly; leans forward for a kiss and makes herself content with the feeling of Bernie’s bare skin under her hands until they break apart breathless.

Bernie tugs at her clothes, makes short work of pulling them off as Serena wiggles lightheaded on her tiptoes. She reaches out, pulls their bodies flush; walks them over to the mattress as they kiss.

She pushes Bernie down and smiles sadly as she crawls up Bernie’s body. Kisses her long and hard and thorough until she can feel Bernie shaking underneath her. She slips a thigh between Bernie’s and presses hard; feels wet and hot against her skin and feels the heat of Bernie’s skin pressed against her too.

Bernie moans, shifts to sit up and pull Serena close. Keeps them pressed together so tight as they rock against each other until Serena comes with her forehead pressed against Bernie’s collarbone.

She pulls back, panting. Sees Bernie’s wide desperate eyes and her flushed pink cheeks and her parted lips and wants to kiss her, _needs_ to kiss her, and smashes their mouths together. Keeps Bernie rutting against her thigh until Bernie pulls back, just an inch and comes with a moan that Serena can feel on her lips, feel down her spine, feel in her core.

Bernie falls against Serena and they roll sideways onto the mattress; still tangled up in each other as they lay side by side. They catch their breath, Serena stroking through Bernie’s hair and Bernie stroking over Serena’s hips. Gentle at first, thumb light on skin, until Bernie starts to breathe evenly and presses harder; presses firm until Serena knows Bernie is aching to flip her over and sink to her knees, to feel Serena come against her tongue.

Serena doesn’t want that, not yet, so she tells Bernie what she does want. She wants Bernie on her back, flat on her back with Serena looming overhead; sliding over her body while she maps out Bernie’s contours with the flat of her tongue, until she decides she want to feel Bernie come.

Bernie nods, squeezes her eyes shut, hands clenched in the blankets. Keeps her hands to herself as Serena makes her writhe and pant and gasp and ache. Serena is aching by the time she lowers her head to the crux of Bernie’s thighs. Buries her face in Bernie; musk in her nose and tang on her tongue and Bernie’s cries music to her ears. She dives in, drinks her fill, over and again. Leaves Bernie limp and aching and begging for water when Serena finally stops.

Bernie slides to the edge of the bed, makes for the kitchen on shaky legs; comes back to find Serena spread out on the mattress and spread herself wide with her palm pushing at her bush and her fingers in her own wetness.

“I couldn’t wait,” she explains, hand stroking herself and on full display.

Bernie stares in wonder, takes in the flush of her chest, the clenching of her stomach, the tiny circles of her hips. Kneels down between Serena’s knees and bats the hand away to replace it with her own. Serena comes. She adds a tongue. She comes again. Adds a finger and works her till she comes again. Four fingers and stretching and Serena arches, moans, claws at the bed and comes and comes and comes. Flops onto the bed and begs for water.

Bernie chuckles, helps her sit up, passes over a mug. Serena curls up on the mattress and pulls Bernie close; presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Bernie kisses her back and shivers; pulls the blankets up over them and snuggles close against the cold.

 

*

 

It’s false dawn when Serena wakes, almost the morning but not quite the next day. She still has time.

She kisses Bernie awake: kisses her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her chin. Kisses her till she snuffles awake and blinks at Serena. The smile on her face is so soft and warm and happy it almost breaks Serena’s heart; does break her heart when Bernie wakes up just that little bit more and remembers. Serena sees the flash of haunted pain that Bernie is normally so quick to hide.

She kisses her because she can’t stand to look at her.

Bernie kisses her back, is happy to kiss her back; happy to slide her hands down Serena’s sides to rest on her hips. Rests her hands gently on Serena’s hips and stays there as Bernie kisses her back.

Bernie’s hands rest gently on Serena hips and Serena wishes they would bite. Does bite, at Bernie’s neck, prompts a gasp and then a moan as Serena runs her tongue up Bernie’s jugular. Then a keen as she nibbles at Bernie’s earlobe. She palms Bernie’s breasts and lowers her head to flick the tip of her tongue over a nipple. Bernie arches up into Serena’s warm wet mouth and her legs fall open.

Serena takes the invitation, slides her hand down, parts Bernie’s labia. Expects to have to stroke her wet; finds her still slick and puffy instead. Finds her wetter under Serena’s sure determined fingers as she coaxes her open and moaning.

She slides two fingers into Bernie and feels her clench. Drops her forehead to Bernie’s shoulder as she remembers the first time she did this: the first time she felt Bernie warm and wet and wanting with her hand. She remember how good it felt, to tell her to come; she wishes she could feel her come now. Shifts over and plants a knee in between Bernie’s legs and mouth at her left breast. Bernie gasps, cants her hips, starts to shake. Serena strokes faster, works her in and out and twists her wrist and Bernie comes, a shuddering mess.

Serena slips her fingers out and brings them to her lips; licks them clean as she looks at Bernie’s flush contented face. Runs her fingers down the scar over Bernie’s chest, over her stomach and clasps her hands; tangles their fingers together until Bernie looks at her. Keeps eye contact as she kinks a leg up and over Bernie’s hip.

Bernie glides her fingers through Serena and _just_ brushes against her clit.

“Please don’t tease me,” she begs and Bernie strokes firmer. It’s nice, it’s oh so nice; but it’s not enough, not right now. Serena shakes her head. “No, more, please—I need, Berni—“ she tries to beg as she rocks her hips and urges Bernie’s hand faster.

Bernie gets the message anyway, coats her fingers sticky, sits up and pulls Serena full into her lap. Enters her without preamble; Serena’s eyes slam shut and she hisses at the stretch. Rises up and sinks down again, strangled cry at fingers buried deep. Moans as she bounces on Bernie’s hand between her legs and Bernie’s mouth on her breast, Bernie’s teeth on her nipple. Moves until she’s close _so very close_ but it’s still not enough.

She throws Bernie back onto the mattress and shifts forward; braces her palms on Bernie’s chest and rides her. Throws her head back and comes on Bernie’s fingers as she cries up at the ceiling.

She sinks to the mattress again and Bernie kisses her soundly. Catches her breath and slides down and off the bed; pulls Serena over the edge as she sinks onto the floor and licks the length of her. Bernie’s knees burn against the carpet as Serena rides her face, her fingers tangled in Bernie’s hair, pulling until she comes against Bernie’s tongue.

Bernie smiles, a cheshire grin, and climbs back up Serena’s body, chin glistening. Rolls Serena onto her hands and knees and slides a thumb into her; rolls her clit against the pads of her fingers. Slides her palm along Serena’s spine and presses her down onto her elbows; rakes her nails back towards her hips and Serena moans.

Bernie pulls out her thumb and sinks in two fingers; braces Serena against her hip and fucks her hard. Jerks her forward and Serena loses her grip and falls face first into the pillow. She flails out, her hands trying to find a grip somewhere, anywhere: presses them against the headboard as she presses down harder on Bernie’s hand.

Serena rocks desperately and feels so swollen and wet she could cry. She claws at the mattress, feels a wave build low in her belly, and comes: comes hard, face down and open wide; feels a gush wet her thighs, falls forward and feels wet on her stomach. She pulses again and greys out; comes to on top of soaked sheets and bursts into tears with a hand still inside her.

Bernie slides out gently and crawls over; is beside Serena in an instant. Gathers her up and curls Serena into the crook of her neck. Holds her while she shakes; sobs and shakes and stains Bernie’s chest with salt. 

Serena can tell Bernie is crying too, as she holds her and whispers how everything is going to be alright. Bernie tells her everything is going to be alright and Serena clings tighter until the tears stop falling.

She falls asleep enveloped in Bernie’s arms with the scent of them sunk into her pores.

 

*

 

She wakes up with the sun shining through the slightly parted curtain. She wakes up warm and and wet and wrapped in Bernie’s arms. She wakes to see Bernie smiling down at her, eyes open and adoring and only a little heartbroken. Serena smiles back because she can, in spite of the sadness curling at the corners of her mouth. Shuffles even closer to Bernie and lifts her chin. Kisses her good morning, for maybe the last time; she can almost taste Bernie thinking the same thing.

“It’s getting late…” Bernie trails off, because she’s still trying to do what’s best for Serena. To get out of bed, to think about her future, to try and move on with her life; even if that life doesn’t include her anymore.

“Stay, just a little longer,” Serena asks, because she’s not ready to give this up yet and she knows Bernie isn’t either. Can feel the tension coiled in Bernie, just under her skin, the want in her body not yet satisfied.

“Of course,” Bernie whispers, looking down at her with shining care filled eyes and Serena can’t bear not to have her again. Kisses her hard, with purpose.

Bernie moans and sinks into Serena as she rolls onto her back. Bernie rolls her further, onto her side and presses her front against Serena’s back. Licks at her neck, slides her hand around her hip and runs her fingers through dark coarse curls; spreads her open and rolls Serena’s clit with the pad of her finger.

Serena moans, buries her hand in the pillow, rocks her hips as Bernie strokes her gently. Her orgasm is sudden and unexpected; she bites into the pillow as she shudders against Bernie. It’s glorious but not enough.

Serena shifts positions and kinks her leg up to give Bernie more room to move. Bernie slides her hand over Serena’s hip and around her arse. Slips two fingers inside into Serena’s hot wet cunt and spills filth in her ear.

“I dreamt about you on my fingers,” Bernie whispers. “I woke up and I could almost feel you coming around my knuckles.” Serena moans, reaches out, wraps her arm around Bernie’s shoulder and wraps her fingers in blonde curls. Pulls her closer and Bernie keeps working her. Bernie begs, “please, Serena, let me feel you come?”

Serena does; comes with a wail and flops her face into the pillow. But Bernie does not stop, presses them together harder. Serena writhes as Bernie moans into her neck; licks a line up to the shell of her ear and hovers to whisper.

Bernie says “you feel amazing” she says “I’ll miss this” she says “I’ll miss you” she says “I love you”.

Serena hears her, actually hears her, for the first time in so very long. Knows exactly what Bernie is saying. That Bernie loves her, so much. Enough to let her go. Loves her enough to hope that maybe one day she’ll come back; loves her well enough never to hate her if she doesn’t.

Bernie says “I love you,” and Serena comes again, with tears in her eyes; eventually falls asleep all wrapped up in Bernie one last time.


	2. And I don’t know who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone (I don’t want to think about it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say goodbye and Serena leaves and Bernie stays to get on with her life as best she can. Bernie gets on with her life, now that Serena is gone, but she is not waiting. As much as she hopes Serena will return, she knows Serena might never come back, and Bernie is not waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to [ arwenthemuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arwenthemuse/pseuds/arwenthemuse) for beta-ing and to everyone who was a massive sweetie to me while I drowned in angst <3 
> 
> Canon compliment CW: mentions/acknowledgements of past domestic abuse re Dom/Isaac, mentions of Bernie's (past) internalised self-hatred.
> 
> Also Bernie just has a lot of emotions post-break up. Y'all might want tissues handy, cos this might be healing!angst but it is hella heavy on the angst.

The choice to leave might have been a simple one, but actually leaving is no easy feat, Serena realises when she wakes up next to Bernie. Wakes up next to a Bernie with a tiny smile and tired eyes looking at Serena with so much care and affection Serena has to look away. She commits the face to memory anyway. Part of her wants to hold Bernie close and never leave this room, their bed, but she knows she has to, knows that leaving is what’s best for both of them, and that she needed to do this for herself most of all.

So she kisses the corner of Bernie’s mouth, flings the blankets back, and pads downstairs to make breakfast. Looks at the time and realises it’s actually dinner and calls for delivery. Bernie comes downstairs as Serena is ordering and mouths her own preference. Smiles when Serena repeats it back down the phone line, kisses her cheek, and goes upstairs for a shower.

She comes back, pink and washed, wearing Serena’s robe. Serena looks up from her curry and at Bernie; Bernie sits down with a smile and without a word.

They have words later, after dinner, to plan logistics. Serena wants to leave as soon as she can and thinks that Bernie knows that too.

Bernie says she’ll help Jason move: one less thing for Serena to worry about. So Serena needn’t worry about packing up the house as well as her things, for whenever she decides to go. She offers to look after the house until Jason has everything he needs and pack up after that, if Serena wants to leave before then. Says she’ll locked the house behind her so it’ll be waiting for Serena if she ever wants to come back.

Serena’s chin trembles at the “if,” but she doesn’t correct her. Nods agreement instead, not trusting her voice, looks away from Bernie before she has to see the flash of anguish she knows is coming.

Bernie leaves for work the next morning. Serena pads around her empty house, stands in Elinor’s room and can’t stand it, cannot stand to be here a moment longer. Orders a ticket on the Eurostar, packs her bags, prepares herself to say goodbye.

She explains herself to Jason, as best she can, promises she’ll call on a schedule. Has no one else she needs to justify herself to so she waits around the house for Bernie to arrive that evening. Waits till after dinner to tell Bernie when she’s leaving.

Bernie offers to drive, to wait, to wave her off. Her heart clenches, she’s happy Bernie offered, but breaks too. Because she doesn’t know what she wants more: to slip away in the dead of night and never see Bernie’s pained face, or to hold her close until the last possible second.

She says no, in the end, knows she might not handle seeing Bernie that single last time, knows she might not be able to keep herself on the train as she leaves for lord knows how long. Serena is strong enough to know she needs to leave but that strength only goes so far and she is relieved when Bernie does not press.

She is relieved when Bernie presses their bodies together. When Bernie presses them into the mattress and kisses her. When Bernie kisses her sweetly and goodbye one last time. Serena is relieved to have this to remember Bernie by.

She does not stay the night.

*

She does not stay the night.

Bernie stays as long as she can, holding back her tears. Lets none of the too-much happening in her heart spill out, holding it all insides as she says goodbye to Serena. Holds her close and kisses her well and smiles brightly so that Serena will remember. She wants Serena to remember her well.

She does not say goodbye (she knows this is—goodbye, that is—but she can’t bring herself to say it). Kisses Serena goodnight instead, tangled up in blankets and already half asleep. Serena kisses Bernie back, mumbles goodbye, and falls asleep. Bernie looks at Serena, sated and content with a tiny smile curling at her lips, and commits her to memory. She wants to remember Serena.

Bernie’s eyes burn as she walks to her car in the dead of night. She blinks back tears the whole ride home, refuses to let any spill as she walks up the stairs to her own front door, bites her lip to keep it from trembling until she is safe and alone in her own tiny flat. She does not cry until she curls up in a ball in the middle of a double bed that does not smell of Serena.

Bernie wakes up the next morning and gets on with her life.

She has a duty to the ward— _their_ ward—to keep it running now that it’s just her. In case Serena comes back, because she might, and Bernie wants her to have something to come back to, if she so chooses.

Only the ward is so very different without Serena there. Different from how it felt when Serena was here, different from how it felt when she was away, different from how it felt when Bernie first started on AAU. It’s so very different but Bernie can’t say she really misses any of those wards. Not now this space is so very tainted by Serena there and grieving and wanting to be anywhere else in the world. None of those wards warrant wanting now, now it’s just Bernie, and the ward is different.

The ward is different but the medicine is always the same. No matter the circumstances, medicine always stays the same. Stays the same, and stays in her life.

Bernie gets on with her life.

*

She hears about Isaac and Dom. Hears about Isaac and feels white hot rage. Hears about Dom and feels sick to her stomach. She feels sick and disgusted at herself for being so distracted by her own problems that she hadn’t even noticed her friend was in trouble. She goes to talk to him after her shift ends. She sees Dom’s face and struggles to keep her own blank. Her emotions aren’t his problem and he seems rather happy to see her and she’d rather keep it that way.

She sits by his bedside and apologises.

“What for?” he asks, slow and slurred and confused. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know.” She hadn’t. That’s the problem. “I’m sorry.”

She says to call her when he’s ready to leave, if he wants to. He nods, says he appreciates the offer, and that he will. Says he’s rather tired. Bernie pats his arm and leaves him to get some sleep.

She passes Hanssen on her way to the car park. Stops him. Thanks him. She doesn’t actually say a word but thanks him all the same. Not a word from either of them but she hears him in any case. She goes back to her tiny flat and doesn’t say a word.

Bernie doesn’t say a word outside professional interaction for the rest of the week. Not until she calls Jason for their scheduled chats (they’d organised them just after Serena left, when they moved most of his things to Alan’s). He says he wants to move the rest of his stuff and asks if she’s free this weekend. She makes herself free. She touches base with Alan, piles the car full of boxes, and helps unpack them. She hugs Jason, shakes Alan’s hand, and drives back to Serena’s house.

Bernie takes her shoes off at the door and gets to work on the rest of the house. Unloads the last of the dishwasher and flicks it off at the switch. Locks the windows and pulls the curtains closed. Turns off all the lights and reminds herself to switch off the fuse box before she leaves. She does one last lap around the house, to make sure she’s thought of everything.

Bernie rests her hand on the handle of Serena’s room and promises herself she won’t open it. Opens it anyway. Opens the door to Serena’s bedroom breathing like she normally would. Breathes in the smell of Serena with just a hint of them and realises how mistaken she is to keep trying to do things like normal.

She promises herself she’ll close the door and walk away. Walks further into the room

and over to the bed. She sits on the duvet and doesn’t bother with false promises.

Bernie curls up on the bed, small and tight and cocooned in blankets. Buries her face in Serena’s pillow and breathes in the smell of her. Lets out a sob and thinks of Serena even though she promised herself she wouldn’t. She can’t help it, she’s always thinking of Serena (has been for months, isn’t sure she knows who she was before all she ever thought about was Serena). She sobs, cries and can’t stop, keeps sobbing until she falls asleep curled up in the middle of Serena’s double bed that smells so completely of _her_.

Bernie wakes up feeling groggy and tired and wrung out. She remembers Serena is gone and can’t help crying again. She cries and spits and sobs until she just stops. She stops crying and sniffles a little. Wipes her face, blows her nose, leaves the room.   

Bernie locks the front door behind her.

*

Jason tells her Serena got to Paris safely during their phone call the next weekend. Her throat clenches slightly at the sound of her name but she keeps herself together as Jason says she’s found a flat with a pot plant garden on the balcony. Bernie smiles at the image of Serena rugged up and smoking as she’s sat overlooking the city. She knows Serena loves Paris and Bernie hopes Serena manages to enjoy being there.

She hangs up the phone and has to physically remove it from her reach. Because she could call Serena: press some numbers, hold the phone to her ear, hear Serena’s voice. It would be so very easy to reach out and talk to Serena.

But she doesn’t because she promised herself she wouldn’t when she promised Serena she wouldn’t. She promised them them both that she’d let Serena go. She keeps her promise and leaves Serena alone and does not call.

She does message, though, because she needs to know if there’s somewhere Serena wants her to send the house keys. She doesn’t want to presume to keep them, as if she expects Serena to come back.

She gets a reply, an address, and sends them away the next morning. She sends another text saying they’re on their way, that she’s glad Serena is safe, that she hope she’s doing okay. She gets a thank you back and nothing else. Bernie thinks of nothing else as she tries to get on with her life.

Her birthday comes and goes. She wouldn’t even have realised unless Charlotte had reminded her with a birthday text mid-morning. She would have forgotten again if not for Cam texting on his lunch break. She probably would have forgotten again if not for Serena.

She’s sitting in her office wrangling paperwork when her phone lights up. It’s a single, short message: “Happy Birthday, hope ur having a great day x”. She stares at her phone so hard her eyes water and she beams until her cheeks hurt.

Bernie texts back, following Serena lead, simple and short: “Thank you, glad to hear from you.” She hovers over the keypad for a few moments, unsure how to type everything she wants to say. She adds “Hope you’re well and stay safe x” and hits send before she overthinks things.

She puts the phone down with a smile and gets on with her work. She doesn’t hear back, doesn’t really expect to, but keeps the smile for the rest of the horridly busy shift.

The red phone kicks up a fuss and she moves from one trauma to the others with the curl at the corner of her lips constant.

She scrubs out, overdue to head home and aware she has at least 5 hours more to go before she can, and Fletch asks her why she’s so cheery amongst all the blood.

“It’s my birthday,” she admits, and of course Fletch lights up and wishes her well. Says he’d suggest they go to Albie’s after they’re done except they both know it’ll be far too late to drink by the time they clock off. She smiles, appreciates the thought.

“It’s quite alright, I’ve had more than enough excitement for one day. Some interesting cases today though, I’m taking those as my present.”

Fletch grins, cracks a joke about surgeons always looking to get their hand mucky. She laughs and doesn’t mention Serena. She doesn’t want to share Serena, not today.

They walk out of theatre and back to the ward and get on with the rest of their shift. Bernie is still smiling when she finally falls asleep well after midnight when it’s no longer her birthday.

Dom gets discharged a few days later and she hears from him the evening after. She is glad to hear from him, that he’s safe and on Zosia’s couch, and says she hopes to see him at the hospital soon enough. He says he’ll come find her when he’s ready to come back. She looks forward to it.

Ric joins AAU and the ward changed again. It’s not quite like it was on Keller, now that they’re co-leads and Ric isn’t Bernie’s boss anymore. Except she speaks to him exactly the same way she did when they first met so it really is pretty much the same.

It’s the same, except now they’re on AAU, and it’s so different, with Ric is her co-lead. (Serena was always so willing to give and take and accepted Bernie’s apologies when she offered them and offered her own in return. It’s not like that now.) With Ric it’s more ego, more posturing, more disagreements. Their disagreements continue on without being resolved: Bernie won’t apologise unless she thinks it is warranted, and Ric won’t apologise until he thinks it is absolutely necessary.

But they are both trained medical professionals who refuse to compromise on patient care. So they sort it out in the end because they are friends and none of their arguments are ever really actually that bad. And as long as they do their jobs and their paper work is done then whatever is flaring between the two of them is always manageable. They manage just fine, no matter how different it feels, and the ward keeps running.

*

She calls Jason every weekend, regular as clockwork. She asks how his week has been, how Alan is, what new book he’s reading, if there is anything else that takes his fancy at the moment? She likes listening to him talk about his life now that she doesn’t see him so often. (She will continue to enjoy their conversations for months to come—conversations in which he sometimes mentions Serena and sometimes doesn’t. She will quickly get used to the absence of pattern, until he goes almost a month without mentioning Serena at one point. She will begin to wonder if Serena asked him not to talk about her to Bernie, until he says she’s been traveling across Europe and kept falling in and out of reception, but she’s back in contact now. She will breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that Serena is still travelling safe and well and staying in contact with someone, even if that person isn’t her.)

She also likes talking to him in person whenever they’ve bumped into each other in the corridors, and they often decided to trade their phone call for an outing when their schedules allow it.

Bernie is rather fond of their pseudo-impromptu but actually meticulously planned outings—to the museum, to watch football, to the zoo—that break up the monotony of the ward and home and the ward again. The weeks wear on and spring gets just that bit hotter into summer and they decided on the aquarium one weekend.

Jason asks her what her favourite sea creatures is.

“You know what, Jason, I’m not sure I’ve ever really thought about it.”

“Well, think about it now,” he says reasonably.

So Bernie does, as they’re walking through the tank-lined corridors, until she comes across an enclosure of multicoloured almost neon bright slug-looking _things._ Bernie reads the sign: nudibranch. Sounds it out and giggles. Spies one in the corner of the tank with a colour scheme that reminds her of that horrid, wonderful blouse Serena bought special because Bernie was coming back from Kiev. (The same one she peeled off Serena’s shoulders to leave pooled on the ground besides her jeans as they kissed that night, long and hard and thorough. The one Serena wore along with nothing else when she made a dash for the kitchen during a water break, the one Bernie almost ripped at the cuff she was so over-excited to have Serena back in bed, the one Bernie still thinks about most days. She thinks about Serena most days.)

She decides a sea creature reminding her of Serena is more than enough reason to warrant her favour. She tells Jason they’re her favourite, but says it’s because she likes the name because she still doesn’t like saying Serena’s name out loud. She doesn’t like saying her name when she’s not around to hear it.

Whenever someone on the ward asks her how she is that week she says, “nudibranchs are my favourite.” It makes more sense if they’ve also asked how her weekend was, but few do, and she ends up getting a lot of odd looks. She rather enjoys them, if she’s being honest, because they can’t look at her with pity if they’re looking at her oddly. She’s sick of everyone looking at her like they’re sorry.

She hates it, the pitiful looks she catches from time to time, as if everyone is sorry about what, _who_ , she’s supposed to have lost. Bernie hasn’t lost anyone, it’s Serena who lost someone—first her daugher and then herself—not Bernie. She hasn’t lost anyone, because Serena might be gone now but maybe, _maybe_ she might be back. And she hasn’t lost anything because she mightn’t have Serena now but she did before, when she had Serena and Serena had her.

Bernie wouldn’t trade what she had for anything in the world. (She would trade the whole world to have Elinor back alive and safe and sound and Serena happy if she could. Her therapist says it’s normal, to want to change things in the past to make the now better, but that it’s impossible. That Bernie should work towards making peace with the past, accept it for what it is, and do her best to move forward as best she can.) Bernie knows it isn’t possible to change what’s happened, no matter how much she wants it to be otherwise, and she doesn’t want to change a thing.

She wouldn’t change a thing about the time she had with Serena before the world fell down around their ears and nobody has any reason to feel sorry for her.

She tells them to stop, whenever they seem a little maudlin over drinks at Albie’s, when she catches up with Morven and Fletch and sometimes Ric or Raf. Occasionally she sees Jasmine or Sozia, Jac and Ollie usually close by, or Sasha. (Sometimes she wishes she’d see Hanssen or Mo at Albie’s but she knows it’s not their scene. She realises she has yet to congratulate Mo on the baby and resolves to make a trip up to Darwin when she can.) She see Cameron there too, when he comes back to Holby.

He warns her this time. Calls her to ask if he crash on her couch until he finds a new place because the share house he had lined up falls through. She beams down the phone, says of course he can, and looks forward to spending time with her son when they live under the same roof again.

Dom calls her the day before Cam is due to arrive, moaning about the state of his back still being stuck on the couch these past weeks. He says he’s getting sick of living with the “so very excited to be newlyweds soon” and needs to find his own place.

She thinks about offering up her flat as a stopgap because she could easily turn the living room into a room. Except that her son is coming to stay. Her son who is looking for somewhere to live. It’s hardly rocket science.

She offers to help them move and makes the most of the time she has with her son while househunt. She calls Charlotte, invites her around for dinner that weekend, if she’s got the time to make the trip to Holby.

Charlotte does, makes time, makes so much time she ends up arriving an hour early and just as Bernie gets home on Friday night. She scrambles out of her car and calls out as Bernie is getting out of her car. Bernie whips around and spots her daughter and beams.

They hug, both a little shocked at the lack of preamble and how comfortable it feels, and smile into each other’s shoulders. Bernie says she’s happy to see Charlotte, she’s happy she came, that she’s sorry it’s been so long. Charlotte hugs her tighter, mumbles that she understands, that she’s glad Bernie called, that she’s happy to see her too. They break apart, blinking furiously, and Bernie leads the way upstairs.

They cook dinner together, like they did when Charlotte was a teen and Bernie home from on tour. The door slams when Cam gets home.

He follows his nose towards a spice blend he knows so very well, finds them in the kitchen, and comments on the familiarity.

“You’ve even cooked the same curry you did when we were kids!”

“It’s my favourite, you know that,” Charlotte replies, because she knows her mother chose it especially for her.

Bernie smiles at them both, sends them off to sort the table, keeps her eyes on the stove top.

Lets herself enjoy this moment, commits it to memory because she loves this feeling: her family in one place and the smell just right. Not because she’s nostalgic about what they used to have but because this is something they can have now. She makes the most of the time they have now.

She’s glad she made the effort because the boys find a place within a fortnight and take up her offer to help them move the weekend after that. She feels like she’s getting rather used to moving houses. She leaves them to to get settled and goes to clean the flat of the last of Cam’s mess. She doesn’t mind; it gives her something to do and she likes having things to do.

She likes that there are always things to do on the ward to keep it running smoothly. She keeps it running so smoothly that both Ric and Hanssen realise there’s little point in having Ric remain on the ward. All the hiccups that do happen are because of Bernie and Ric, so remove one of them and everything will always run smoothly.

She doesn’t mind when they offer her lead of AAU, doesn’t mind being by herself and in command of her own team. It reminders her of her last tour, before that went up in smoke, and she wonders if she should miss service. She used to, some days, but not so much now. There are only a few things she used to have in her life that she misses now and the RAMC is not one of them. So she enjoys leading the ward and adds command to the list of things she enjoys having in her life. Medicine, always constant; her friends and colleagues, new and so very welcome; and her children, most of all. She focuses on that list of things she enjoys having as she gets on with her life.

*

The first time she goes home with a stranger after Serena leaves is a bit of a blur. It’s also entirely Cameron’s fault. He stops by after his shift one evening, asks her to come clubbing that weekend. Bernie laughs and laughs until she realises he is being serious.

“It’s for Dom,” he explains, “he’s been mentioning he wouldn’t mind going out and trying to meet people.” He’s relieved at the fact, Bernie can tell, and she’s glad to hear it too. She’s glad to hear Dom has healed so much these few short months to be whole enough to think about sharing parts of himself again. “I thought you might like to try that too?”

He’s needling, she knows, because he’s not really sure how to handle this conversation. They’ve not really spoken about Serena (Bernie still tries not to talk about Serena if she can avoid it, would rather keep her thoughts and her memories to herself), but he knows that Bernie is alone again and maybe forever.

Bernie knows that too, and she doesn’t mind. She also knows that Cam thinks she ought to try and change that fact. And she thinks it’s sweet that he cares enough to want to try and help her change that.

So for all she thinks this clumsy attempt at throwing Bernie back into the wilds is misplaced, she agrees to join them anyway. Because her flat is beginning to feel a little cramped, a little too still, a little too quiet after the din of the ward every day and she could use some more noise in her life. So as much as she’s never thought much of clubs, she’s happy to keep an eye on her pack of cubs for a night, and she rolls through the week actually looking forward to the weekend.

She gets a bit dressed up, which just means she remembered to hang up a shirt when she got up that morning, so it can hang unwrinkled; a bit made up, which just means a coat of mascara, some lip gloss, a bit of blush, because why not? Decides to make the most of the last of the warm weather and doesn’t bother with a coat. Leaves the house in a light cardigan and boots and manages just fine.

She meets them all there and isn’t surprised to find the place far too noisy for her liking. Everyone except Cam is surprised to see her there too—he hadn’t thought to mention she was coming—and no one is surprised when she bails first out of all of them.

Every single one of them is surprised when she leaves early and on the tail of a tall redhead made of nothing but curves. Their surprised faces are a bit of a blur, if she’s honest, but she remembers saying goodbye to her friends and telling them all to get home safe before she leaves. She remember her son’s shocked, pleased face, remembers smirking at him before turning to slip her arm through a kinked elbow and walking out of the club with company.

Cam demands details when she sees him the next day in Pulses. He looks at her expectantly, Dom standing right behind him, and she just smirks at the both of them. Says she doesn’t kiss and tell, and even if she did, she’s not telling the two of them.

Doesn’t tell the two of them there isn’t anything to tell because the woman took her home and Bernie kissed her down onto the mattress only to realise that the sheets smelt just like Serena’s when they’re freshly washed. She inhaled, froze, felt tears burn in her eyes, left.

She’s glad they never exchanged numbers, because her poor attempt at a mumbled apology as she practically ran from the room and out of the house most certainly didn’t cut it. She’s glad she doesn’t have to explain herself to a stranger she’d considered intimacy with for a night. She shouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone who doesn’t matter.

She runs into Dom on the roof later that afternoon, sits down next to him as they stare out into the sky and over Holby. He asks about her night again, and Bernie thinks he might understand if she told him. She thinks that she might tell him, because Dom matters. So she does tell him: tells him that she wasn’t ready.

“Neither was I,” he admits and Bernie looks away from the sky and to his face. She flops her head gently to the side, brow furrowed, open-faced and willing to listen.

“There was a bloke, after you left, interested in me. Asked if I wanted to go home with him. I wanted to, to want that. I wanted to be ready, but I just…wasn’t. Neither were you and there’s no shame in that.”

“As long as you're honest with yourself?” Bernie asks, slightly teasing, thinking back to the first time they share commiserations about horrid love life choices.

“Exactly,” Dom says with a nod. “However long it takes.”

He’s solemn and serious and Bernie is rather impressed at how wise he is for all he is so young. She hates the reason why but is impressed nonetheless. “I have to say, your therapist is marvellous.”

“Isn’t he just?” It’s no surprise, this conversation; they’ve had it before. They know it’s safe to talk about. “And he’s rather nice to look at too,” he adds with a cheeky grin.

Bernie smirks back. She’s happy to see him smile.

*****

The ward rumbles along, happy and healthy under Bernie’s leadership. She takes to heading straight home after shifts, wants to leave Cam alone with his colleagues to find his feet and his own balance between work and play without fussing over him all the time, so she spends a lot more time in her tiny flat and her own company.

She finds she doesn’t mind her own so much anymore, not like she did during the divorce when her children weren’t talking to her and she didn’t have anything in her life except work (she knows the thing she missed most when she left Marcus and the kids was simply having someone to come home to). She doesn’t despise her own company like she did in Kiev either, when all she could think about was Serena and how badly she wanted to go back. She doesn’t hate herself like she did then.

She makes sure to mention it to her therapist, that she’s letting go of some things carved deep inside her that tell her she should hate herself. She doesn’t feel those things etched onto her so much anymore and she doesn’t mind being alone anymore.

In fact, she rather like the feelings of coming home alone, to a space just for her and she takes to spending more time at home. She cooks more, exercises more, even manages to clean more. Helena is rather pleased with Bernie progress when she mentions all this one session.

The weather turns crisp, she moves a few of heavy coats to the front of her closet, and the ward thrives under Bernie’s leadership. According to Hanssen, that is, when he mentions the progress of AAU during one otherwise incredibly boring board meeting. Bernie feels a bit pleased with herself for the rest of the day and takes the ward out for drinks to celebrate.

Cam calls her one evening to say Charlotte is coming up and stay for break at the end of next month. He wants to introduce Lottie to a few friends from work, thinks he might host a dinner, asks if she’d like to come too. Bernie smiles, of course she will, and hangs up delighted.

She does to the calendar to circle the date, flick to next month, and notices Serena’s birthday already circled on the 1st. She adds a red ring to the end of the month, and realises that she’s been without Serena for almost six. The realisation that she’s been without Serena for so long hits her so hard she has to sit down. She hasn’t seen Serena in so long.

She hasn’t thought of Serena in so long, at least not deliberately as per her rule (Serena pops up in her mind enough as it is so she needn’t focus on Serena to think of her). Bernie thinks of her now, breaks her rule, and lets herself think of Serena.

Thinks of the Serena she first fell in love with, before she even knew she had, who smiled when she saw Bernie, who snapped when Bernie misstepped, who laughed whenever Bernie told her a joke (laughed till she cried when Bernie brought her a joke: she really ought to have thanked Mr. Bliss for that with something better than a bath tap he already owned). She thinks of the way Serena used to touch her, a hand on her shoulder, a hand on her back. Bernie thinks of the kind, sweet, snarky Serena she didn’t even know she loved.

She thinks of the Serena she knew she loved, wholly and completely and without question. She thinks of the Serena who loved Bernie back, who kissed Bernie second on the theatre floor, who kissed Bernie first so she wouldn’t leave, who kissed Bernie best and gave her a reason to stay. She thinks of Serena who said “I love you, too” with a smile so bright it left Bernie blinking blind, the first time Bernie she loves Serena out loud.

Bernie thinks of the Serena she loves and who loved her, whose heart she broke all over again when Bernie walked into Jason’s hospital room to shatter Serena’s world without a word. She thinks of the weeks, _months_ of push and pull; the constant cycle of mixed messages (hold me close, don’t leave me here; please leave me alone, I want to be alone; please don’t leave me alone, I can’t stand to be alone). She thinks of Serena on the rooftop: smiling, laughing, crying Serena who finally _finally_ had hope, that maybe one day her heart would beat right again.

She thinks of Serena who said she needed to leave. Serena who left in search of healing and something that made her happy. Serena who left because she loved Bernie and left her behind because she loved Bernie and who never promised to come back because she loved Bernie.

She thinks of Serena and realises thinking of Serena doesn’t make Bernie feel like it used to, that she doesn’t ache with missing Serena anymore.

She still does miss her, though—probably always will—and thinks about calling her, on her birthday. She wants to call—she hasn’t heard Serena’s voice in months and she does miss it—but reconsiders. She hasn’t heard anything from Serena in months and wonders if maybe the contact might ruin Serena’s birthday. She doesn’t want to ruin Serena’s birthday, but she thinks that maybe no contact might do the same, when she remembers that Serena reached out to her on Bernie’s birthday.

She sends a text, the last day of September, in case Serena doesn’t want to hear from her. She sends a text in case she does.

Bernie agonises over three lines of text, just wishing Serena happy birthday and hoping she’s travelling well, before slamming the phone on the counter in frustration. She walks around the coffee table, picks up the phone again, and hovers above the send button. She taps out an addendum, apologising if Serena didn’t want to hear from her, that she hopes she’s doing okay. Sends it and throws her phone onto the couch and sets herself on sorting the stack of dirty dishes.

*

Her phone rings the next day. It’s Serena. The phone vibrates in her hand so long she almost lets it ring through. Bernie’s hands shake as she hits the call button, as she brings the phone to her ear, as she presses it against the side of her face.

“Hello, Bernie?” It’s so good to hear Serena’s voice.

“Yes, it’s me, I’m here.” Of course she is. “Ah, I, um, happy birthday!”

Serena chuckles and thanks her. She thanks Bernie for thinking of her, says that she’s sweet to worry but she would have been fine to hear from her on her birthday. Bernie can hear the smiles in her voice. Serena says she wanted to hear from Bernie on her birthday so she called, and that she hopes that’s alright.

“Of course it is!” How could it not be? “I’m, ah, it’s really good to hear from you.”

“Well, friends do call on each other’s birthday, after all.” Bernie’s heart soars at the word “friend”: after everything, Serena is and always will be her friend. Her best friend. “On Christmas too, in my experience.”

“Would you like me to call at Christmas?”

“No.” Bernie’s face falls. “I don’t know where I’ll be or whether I’ll be able to call, so if I can I’ll call you.” Her face shines again. “I mean, if that’s alright with you?”

“More than.” It is, really, whatever Serena can give her is enough. “If you can.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Bernie can hear another smile in her voice and she smiles too.

Bernie wants to ask where she is, how she’s doing, how she’s feeling. Knows that Serena won’t want to answer any of those questions. So she says she hopes Serena is doing okay (“I am, really, I’m alright,” Serena reassures her), repeats she’s glad to hear from her (“I’m glad,” Serena repeats too), and says she’s got an early start tomorrow and has to go (“Of course you do, don’t let me keep you.”) and hangs up.

Bernie hangs up knowing that whatever Serena can give her will always be enough. She brushes her teeth knowing Serena has given her as much as she can. She goes to bed knowing that it is enough and falls asleep knowing that she doesn’t ache anymore.

She wakes up knowing she misses having Serena in her life, obviously, but she doesn’t ache like she used to either.

She knows her life doesn’t glow like it once did with Serena, when she welcomed her back, when she said she wanted her, when she said she loved her, when they were together. It doesn’t shine like it did for those beautiful, wondrous, far too brief weeks they had together before the world fell out from underneath Serena and fell down around Bernie’s ears. But this isn’t like it was in the dull greys of Kiev with the endless, empty, lonely night. This isn’t like it was when Serena first left. She doesn’t feel that anymore.

She feels lots of other things though, lots of things other than the missing Serena. Feels delight, at seeing her kids in a few weeks time. She’s excited to see her kids and thinks that maybe this is enough, that it’s enough to have things in her life that she cares about.

She wouldn’t call this happy—she’s not sure she’s ever been happy except for those few fragile bubbles (around Serena, with Alex, after her children were born, when Marcus first loved her) that always burst far too soon—but she wouldn’t say she’s unhappy either.  

Her life mightn’t be anywhere near as bright as it once was, will never be as bright as it could have been, but she has things in her life to be excited about and maybe that’s enough. She wonder if maybe this is enough.

Thinks it might be, enough, when she arrives at Dom and Cam’s later that month, over-eager and half an hour early, and sees the smiling faces of this make-shift family of Cam and Dom and Zosia and Morven and Charlotte. She sees them smiling and happy to see her and thinks this is enough.

Bernie sits down at the table and looks up to so many smiling faces looking back at her and glad that some of the people she cares about are happy. Thinks that maybe this might be enough for her to be happy one day as well.

Because she can think of Serena now, without missing her so much it hurts. She misses her and wants her back more than anything, but she knows that Serena will come back when she’s ready, if she’s ready. When she’s able. When she wants to. Serena will come back when she wants to and Bernie will be here when she does, in any capacity Serena wants her to be. And if Serena doesn’t that’s okay too, because Bernie isn’t waiting for Serena.

She isn’t waiting. Waiting implies she expects something, an outcome, a resolution. Waiting implies she’s frozen, still, stagnant. She isn’t, really, hasn’t even slowed down if she’s being honest. She’s going about her life exactly as she would if Serena were here: the Serena before Elinor died were here, the Serena she’d never kissed were here, the Serena she’d never thought about kissing where here. She goes on exactly like she did before she had Serena because at the moment she doesn’t have Serena. For all that she has enough hope in her heart to think that maybe there is a future for them to be together and happy, she knows that Serena might not want that. Knows that she might not want Bernie if she comes back. Knows that she might not come back at all.

So Bernie is not waiting for Serena to come back. Not waiting for Serena at all. Because Serena might never return and Bernie is not waiting in case she never comes back.

Bernie is not waiting.

*

The first time she fucks a stranger after Serena leaves is a bit of a blur. It’s also absolutely all Cam’s fault.

Dinner turns to drinks turns to going out. Of course when there’s a flat full of junior doctors plus nightlife loving engineer involved in making plans, the night always ends in going out. And of course they all insist on dragging Bernie out too. And of course it’s queer, because it’s Dom (and Bernie and Zosia and Charlotte) and Charlotte has been begging to check out the sights since she arrived, and the first thing they do is a round of shots.

Bernie ends up a bit drunker than she anticipated and far quicker too.

She remembers fragments of her night, quite a lot of them actually, but only a few minutes at a time, here and there. Remembers the burn of whisky as she smashes two fingers back with relish, feeling the thrill of being flirted at, and the curve of a pair of pretty red lips smirking with want and hope as they offer Bernie another drink.

She remembers another offer, to come home with her and join her in bed, and Bernie’s knee-jerk reaction is to say no, thank you, I’m already spoken for.

Only she isn’t, she isn’t spoken for. For all that her heart is Serena’s—always will be now; there’s no avoiding that—she can do what she likes with her body. Bernie can do what she likes and she thinks she’d rather like to do this eager brunette with bright blue eyes and hair halfway down her back. Because she offered, because she asked, and it seems like a good idea with a bellyful of whisky and a bruised heart Bernie knows isn’t broken anymore. So she nods shakily and they finish their drinks, she finds the rest of the group on the dance floor and says goodbye, and leaves to enjoy the rest of her night.

Bernie knows she’s young—younger, rather, than Bernie is: younger than Alex was, even—but Bernie’s knows she’s an adult and in charge of her facilities as much as Bernie and that she knows what she wants. Which is Bernie, as she so bluntly puts it, pushing Bernie against the brick wall while they wait for a cab. She whispers what she’d like Bernie to do to her, resolve shining in her eyes, and smears that deep red lipstick over Bernie’s cheek.

They kiss, brick biting into Bernie’s back, until they hear a car honk. Bernie opens her eyes to see bright lights pulled up beside them. They clamber in and keep their hands to themselves for the whole ride to an unfamiliar address on the other side of town.

They keep their hands to themselves once they arrive, until they’re inside the house and the front door is kicked shut behind them. Bernie leans against wood and pulls the other women towards her and kisses her hard. There is no pretence involved, no mistake about what they’re doing there or why, and Bernie slips her hand inside the brunette’s knickers and fucks her against the wall before they’ve gotten their shoes off.

They barrel along into the bedroom and she presses Bernie onto the mattress before straddling her; grinds down on Bernie’s bare thigh as she wets her fingers and strokes at Bernie’s clit. She stops when she realises things aren’t quite as good for Bernie as they are for her and reaches into her top drawer. Takes out a bottle of lube, slicks up her hand, enters Bernie with two sticky fingers. She fucks her rough and hard and Bernie thinks they might have used half the bottle by the time they’re done.

The sex is good, great even, and Bernie comes, more than once. But it’s nothing at all like how sex is with Serena and Bernie is glad of the difference.

She says thank you when they’re done while the brunette is complaining about sweaty hair and needing a shower. Bernie slips out of bed and into her jeans, says goodbye, and leaves without one last kiss.

She feels stale the next morning, muscles worked and memory foggy, and enjoys the warmth of the shower far longer than is strictly necessary. She wonders if she ought to regret the night before. She doesn’t. She doesn’t feel much of anything about it and reasons there’s no point in making herself feel anything other than what she’s already feeling. She stops worrying and turns off the shower only worried about getting to work on time and nothing else.

Fletch greets her as he always does, then asks if she’s sleeping alright when she blinks at him. He says she’s looking a bit tired and asks (not for the first time) if she’s coping (now that Serena is gone). She looks him dead in the eye and says she’s coping just fine, that she was up late, went out with friends and went home with company, not that it’s any of his business.

Fletch starts, a bit shocked at Bernie’s frankness, and stammers an apology. “You’re right,” he says, “it’s none of my business.”

Bernie smiles kindly, thanks him for being concerned, and repeats that she’s doing just fine. She gathers up the junior doctors for ward rounds and they all manage just fine.

*

Bernie manages just fine until she realises she splits almost all of her time between the hospital and her flat. In and of itself, that’s not a bad thing, Bernie thinks, except that the flat is starting to feel too small. Rather than feeling more homely the more time she spends in it, her flat just seems to get smaller and smaller.

She knows there’s something off, something wrong, now, with the way she’s living her life, but doesn’t know what it is. Helena doesn’t know either, or at least won’t tell Bernie what she thinks when Bernie asks. She answers around the question to get Bernie to ask more questions until she figures out the answer to the actual question by herself. Bernie realises she might be lonely, because not missing Serena so much it aches has left enough space for loneliness to creep into her life.

She mentions it is to her kids when they’re over for dinner one night: that the flat seems a bit empty, rather than the fact that she’s a bit lonely (she is getting better at open emotional declarations but she’s nowhere near being that open; besides, it’s hardly their problem she’s a bit blue sometimes and she’s not going to make it theirs if she can help it).

Charlotte suggests she get some fish, give her something to watch in the living room, seeing as she still doesn’t have a telly. Bernie says she can’t handle the sound of the filter and the constantly flowing water. Cam doesn’t offer any advice but Bernie can see the cogs working in his head. Thinks that maybe he’s twigged to the actual problem; knows he has when he nicks her phone when she’s not looking and downloads a dating app. Is even more certain he understand when he enters in a joke profile, saying he thinks it’d be funny, rather than having to hold a serious conversation about the topic. Typical Wolfe behaviour, Bernie thinks.

Thinks it is a bit funny—the joke profile—though she does admit she doesn’t understand what he’s actually written.

“What do railings have to do with dating?”

She frowns when her children dissolve into a puddle of laughter and assumes she’s the butt of yet another one of their jokes. Smiles despite herself when they keep laughing until they’re crying because it really is a bit funny.

But in the end the joke is also under her name with her face in all the photos and that makes the whole thing a bit less funny. She says as much and asks them to take it down. Cam agrees but before he gets the chance, Charlotte steals the phone. She sets up an account for serious and gets to the root of the problem in no words and all actions. Typical Wolfe behaviour, Bernie thinks, and pouts at her children because they’ve grown far too smart by half in their adult years.

Bernie keeps pouting because she isn’t sure how she feels about that, a serious dating profile. She’s not sure she even wants to date. But she agrees in the end, because she would like to meet a few new people who aren’t from work and according to both her kids this is how it’s done now days. Plus her children grin and giggle as they swipe left and right on her say so and Bernie thinks the whole situation is rather comical. She even makes a few matches and doesn’t see the harm in chatting and when one of them asks her out for coffee she agrees to give it a go.

It’s fine, and she enjoys herself as much as anyone meeting a stranger can. She wonders if she ought to meet up again but she doesn’t offer and her date doesn’t ask so Bernie goes home and thinks no more about it. She tried it, and there was no harm, but she doubts she’ll be trying again and would probably never have thought about the app again if it hadn’t kept sending her notifications. She gets sick of the constant beeping and deletes that app. Reasons that she probably does have enough friends for now and if she’s going to find someone for the night she can do it the old fashioned way.

She does a few times, with festive season fast approaching, when the mood takes her. She heads out to the lesbian bar on the other side of town Cam took great lengths to point out to Charlotte and Bernie last time they were together and getting ice cream. She heads out to try her luck and gets lucky most of the time.

She gets lucky and goes back to their place, always to theirs and never to hers. Never hers because her bed has only ever had herself and Serena in it and now that Serena is gone it is just for her. So she goes back to their place where she enjoys them and herself and never stays the night.

She never stays the night. Sometimes she bothers with names. Never thinks to bother with numbers until one specifically asks—in a roundabout way, really, because it’s the friend who _actually_ asks—and says it’s a safety precaution. Bernie thinks it’s reasonable request, to have the name and contact details of a stranger your friend’s got their hands all over and very keen to get home with, in case something happens. So she hands over her number to one and her phone to the other and follows Dominique out of the club and to her home.

It’s nice, it’s gentle and good, and Bernie enjoys herself. Makes sure Dominique enjoys herself too, until she’s too tired to stay away and drifts off to sleep. Bernie gets out of bed and finds her clothes. She get a cab home, showers, goes to sleep. She goes to work the next morning and for the rest of the week.

She gets a message from Dom on Friday, asking if she’s free that night and would like to grab a drink. She thinks she wouldn’t mind an excuse to delay going home tonight and sends back “sure should be done by 8 see you at Albie’s”. She looks forward to seeing Dom and maybe getting some gossip on Cam to use over Christmas.

She doesn’t realise her mistake until she walks through the door of Albie’s at 8:10 and Dominique stride right up to her. Bernie is thankful for the hug, it gives her face enough privacy to be confused before she has to school her features blank.

Dominique pulls away and beams.

“It’s great to see you,” she says.

“It’s, ah, nice to see you too,” Bernie says, covering herself because this is her own fault and because Dominique really is nice. Bernie did rather enjoy herself last time and thinks that maybe it won’t be so bad, to have company she’s already a little familiar with for the night.

Except then Dominique orders food and a bottle of wine and asks Bernie about herself and what her plans are for Christmas and what she thinks her resolution for the new year will be. It begins to feel a little bit like a date. A second date. Like they might be dating. She doesn’t want this.

Bernie darts around the questions and doesn’t refill her glass. Dominique notices she’s stopped drinking and takes it as a sign that Bernie is impatient rather than trepidatious. She invites Bernie back to hers.

“Umm, actually.” She knows she doesn’t want this. “That’s not such a good idea.” Dominique is confused, to say the least, and Bernie tries to talk her way out of this. “I’ve got to get home and—”

“Have you got someone waiting for you?” Dominique snaps, eyes narrow, and it’s obvious she not interested in being pulled into someone else’s infidelity.

“No, no, nothing like that.” It’s nothing like that, no chance of it being anything like that. “No one is waiting for me,” Bernie assures her.

Bernie lapses into silence and shuffles uncomfortably and wonders if she’s allowed to just, get up and leave. She doesn’t. Dominique looks at her as if she ought to keep talking. She doesn’t.

“So you just, don’t really fancy me?” Dominique ask, sounding a bit confused and fairly resigned, as if she already knows the answer to this particular puzzle.

Bernie wonders what the etiquette is for telling someone they were only ever a one night stand but you accidentally went on a second date with them because sometimes you can’t read your phone properly, without being cruel and actually calling them a mistake.

“I mean, you’re nice and last time was really, ah, nice…” Bernie trails off, still figuring out how to be polite about this.

“But?” Dominique prompts when Bernie still has figured it out a long pause later.  

“There’s someone.”

“But you just said—”

“There _was_ someone. She left, had to leave, and, ah, even if she never comes back, there’s no one else for me. I’m sorry, you’re quite nice but we shouldn’t have done this, please don’t contact me again.” Bernie stands up, gets her coat, looks at Dominique once more before she leaves. “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” she adds, because she is sorry, truly, and practically runs out of Albie’s and to her car in the hospital parking lot.

Her phone stays silent for days on end and Bernie can’t tell if she is disappointed or relieved as Christmas crawls ever closer around the corner.

*

The festive seasons kicks in and the ward gets to its busiest so Bernie spends the holidays alone and at work. She works through Christmas and is thankful of the distraction because Cam is working too and Charlotte is with Marcus this year and Serena doesn’t call. Bernie had hoped she might, but reminds herself not to be disappointed, that Serena is still travelling and maybe she’ll hear from her when she’s moved on from wherever it is that she is. She might hear from her soon.

Bernie finishes her shift past midnight and her no-longer-Christmas dinner is alone and for one: curry she made earlier in the week, wolfed down in minutes before she passes out on her bed under blankets she almost too exhausted to pull up around her chin properly. She wakes up and keeps working and doesn’t have a chance to feel lonely because she’s still working come New Year's Eve.

She doesn’t mind at all, given the interesting cases in coming in and keeping her busy and intrigued. She’s not surprised when Cam pops down to AAU on his lunch break to wish her a happy new year, but she is surprised to seen Jason and Alan waiting for her in her office in the early evening. Alan nods to Bernie when she walks into the office, clasps Jason’s shoulder, and says he’ll be back in bit.

Bernie smiles at him as he walks out, turns back to Jason and smiles at him too.

“Jason! This is a surprise.” They’re not due for a weekend outing until the festive season dies down and Bernie can take a weekend off again. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you come with me to the cemetery on Wednesday?”

Bernie starts, clenches her hands in her pockets for all she’d been wondering if he’d ask for company coming up the anniversary (he’d have gone with Serena, if she were here, Bernie knows. But she’s not and Bernie supposes she’s the next best thing because Alan never met Elinor). She breathes out, relaxes.

“Of course I will. It’ll have to be after I finish work though, if that’s okay?”

Jason nods and says that satisfactory because the cemetery has proper lighting for night time visits. He stands up, wishes her a happy new year, and hugs her. Bernie hugs back, wishes him one too, and she walks him through the corridors to Alan currently in a disagreement with the vending machine. She waves them off and watches them walk away before walking back to her office to shift some of her paperwork.

Her phone lights up almost constantly in between 11 and midnight but Bernie only bothers to reply to one message. Serena’s text is short and simple but Bernie is certain it’s not impersonal—is fully aware it could just be wishful thinking but lets herself have this tiny fleck of hope. It is New Year, after all—and she doesn’t know what to send back. She doesn’t know whether she’s reading too much into Serena message, so sends back pretty much that same thing: Happy New Years X . She wonders if Serena will read the added capitals the way Bernie intended, whether there is any actual difference between the two messages, and tells herself not to think about it before she makes herself sick with nerves.

Serena lights up her phone again at precisely midnight. “xx”. Bernie reads it and feels her heart thump and her stomach twists. She sends the same back, hoping she’s reading it for what it was and not too much. She doesn’t hear back, but doesn’t expect to, and a smile stays curled at the corner of her lips until she clocks off.

She gets home, eventually and slides into bed; body exhausted and overwrought and humming all at the same time. She thinks about the text, thinks about what it would be like if Serena were actually here to kiss, and lets herself think about kissing Serena.

She remembers their first kiss, on the floor of the theatre, desperate and frantic and so very sweet. She thinks of their second kiss, remembers the ache and the want and the sheer joy of finally kissing Serena again. She thinks of their third and wonders when her fingers slipped under the band of her pants. She tenses, feels her body still humming and knows she won’t sleep if it stays like this. She lets herself have this, just this once, and slips her hand between her thighs.

She thinks of kissing Serena against the front door, like they did their first night together. She spreads herself wide and slides a finger through swollen lips; shudders when she realises how wet she is and keeps thinking of Serena. She thinks of the way they half-ran, half-fell up the hallway, barely even stopping for air between kisses, as she rubs circles on her clit. She rubs harder as she remembers pushing Serena against the doorframe of the bedroom and kissing her sweet and dirty. She remembers kissing her until Serena broke away to beg Bernie to touch her—Bernie had smirked, said of course she would, after one last kiss—Bernie is thinking of that kiss when she comes against her fingers: comes with a cry as she thinks of kissing Serena.

She falls asleep and dreams of her and wakes up and refuses to think about kissing Serena.

Wednesday arrives and she makes sure she finishes her shift on time. She’s glad she thought to buy flowers on her lunch break.

She sees a gaudy monstrosity that could only have been from Edward and Liberty and holds her flowers tighter. She know Jason asked for her company for later, when he’s done talking and needs someone with him while he cries, and asks if he’d like some time alone with Elinor now. He nods and leaves him be to walk around the cemetery. She wonders about all the names carved in marble until she gets a message from Jason saying that he’s done and wants to know where she is. She calls back as she walks towards the car, says to meet her there, that she’ll be there in ten minutes. She says that she has to pay her respects as well but she’ll be there soon.

She stops at Elinor’s grave, bends down to add her flowers to Jason’s bouquet, talks as she kneels beside the tombstone.

“Hi, Ellie, um, I mean Elinor, it’s, ah, been a while.” Bernie laughs, a touch wet, and shakes her head at her own folly. “Sorry, I’ve never been very good with grave sides, usually avoided them once I was out of uniform, always thought graves were for the family,” she says as she stands and buries her hands in her pockets.

(She remembers the men in uniform who saluted her Father’s grave, nodded to her mother, and left promptly to give the family space. She remembers friends of the family, all dolled up in civvies, who cried and wailed and wept over the top of her mother’s grief; remembers wondering “why can’t they leave us in peace?” She kept that thought every time she lost a comrade, always paid her respect and left the family alone to grieve and in peace.)

“They are, really, but not all families are blood…and, well you _are_ family, in a roundabout sort of way. Or you would have been, if things had been different.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, feels her eye burn. “I wish we’d have been family,” she whispers, harsh and broken, and tries to suck in too much air for her constricted throat. “I wish I could’ve gotten to know you better, I think if we’d had more time we would have gotten on rather well, don’t you?” She chuckles again, wet and hollow. “Like a house on fire, always butting head, I’m sure.” She smiles at the memory of the few begrudgingly polite conversations they’d managed to have. She knows they would have gotten on in the end.

“There was a lot I liked about you, you know, bright and clever and headstrong. You were so talented and fierce…you were so like your mother.” She breaks off, haggard breathing, tries to slow it enough to keep going. “You know, I’m not even sure I think you might be out _there_ somewhere—or whether you’re just nowhere anymore—but if you are there and sort of, _floating_ around…could you keep an eye on her, please, if you can?” She breathes deep, deeper, still can’t quite calm herself completely. She goes on anyway. “I know you might be mad, that she doesn’t visit, but I know she would if she could manage it. She had to leave—maybe she told you before she left? I don’t know, I don’t eve know where she is—but losing you was, too much and she loved you _so_ much that she had to leave,” Bernie blurts out in a rush, tears burning in her eyes. “You know she loves you very much, and you know she’ll always miss you, so if you can, can you visit her, sometimes, wherever the both of you are in the world? Please?” Her eyes water, sting, weep and she lets them as she pays the last of her respects.

“I hope that wherever you are you’re happy— God, not, not _happy_ , I mean, but—content, at peace. I hope that you’re at peace, Elinor Campbell, and that you know how just how much you’re loved and just how much you’re missed.”

Bernie rocks her heels as she sucks in a shaky breath. She pulls her hands out of her pockets: swipes at her cheeks, smooths down her shirt, pulls her coat a little tighter around her chest. She nods at Elinor’s gravestone, turns tails, and walks back to the car with her eyes still burning.  

*****

January rolls on and Bernie’s flat is so small she can’t stand it anymore. She starts looking for something else, somewhere larger. Finally she finds a flat near the hospital that makes Bernie feel at home, something about the living room just feels right (she doesn’t realise it till after she’s moved in and settled but the walls are the same shade as Serena’s), and applies then and there. She gets a call from the real estate the next day and starts packing up her flat when she gets home from work.

She always thought she didn’t have much in the way of things, and objectify she doesn’t, but she realises she has much more stuff than she thought she had. With each room she finds reams of bits and pieces she had no idea about owning. Books and mugs and clothes she can understand having but not keeping track of, but the two blenders and a handful of candy bracelets, not so much. She chalks it up to Charlotte thrifting while she’s in town and then forgetting to take things home with her.

She declutters as she packs, rifles through all the collections of _things_ she has about the place, and throws most of it out. She doesn’t needs 8 pairs of nail clippers, no matter how essential an item that are. She finds a key in the stuff bowl she keeps on kitchen bench and frowns at it, unsure what it’s for or why she has it.

Until she remembers it’s her spare key to Serena’s house. (She’d lent it to Bernie, after the first week they’d been together. So Bernie would know she was always welcome in Serena’s home, even if Serena didn’t have the words to tell her that in public. Bernie had never actually used it, never needed to in those first few weeks because Serena was always with her, and never wanted to use it after Elinor had died. She never wanted to upset the balance between Serena’s push and pull by introducing another variable outside of Serena control. So she’d put the key away and forgotten about it.) She’d forgotten she had it.

She thinks about messaging Serena to ask if she wants it back. Then she thinks that breaking their silence over something so trivial would be a mistake, that Serena would have forgotten about it too and wouldn’t care to be reminded, and there’s no reason in disturbing Serena’s silence. Bernie puts the key in one of the boxes, swears to herself she won’t forget it this time, and moves on to the next room.

It doesn’t take long, to pack up the flat, and she’s ready to move come the weekend. She ropes Dom and Cam into helping. It’s only fair, she says, to return the favour, she reminds them. She say she’ll throw in a case of beer dinner as well and they jump at the offer.

They move in her furniture and stuff themselves with pizza and smash through the case till it’s empty. The boys get an uber home and Bernie crash out on the lounge, too tired and drunk to be bothered setting up the bedroom.

She wakes up bleary-eyes and a bit hungover and sets about moving herself into the house and everything is reasonably in order come dinner time. Only the flat still feels a bit unfinished and stays feelings a little empty that first week. She feels like she ought to get more furniture. Except she’s never really cared for furniture shopping and she’s got the essentials already so she doesn’t bother in the end. She cooks a few heavily spiced dinners to fill the space instead. Once the flat starts to smell like it ought to, she starts to feel a little more at home as she makes this flat her home.

A new flock of F1s start. Bernie thinks they’re a rather bland bunch, so scared of their own shadows. She teaches them as best she can, steady supervision and stern praise where warranted, and slowly but surely they stop being spooked by everything and start to grow and the ward rumbles along.

She wonders if she ought to get a pet to fill the space that the absence of furniture leaves. She’s always been fond of animals and she hasn’t had a pet since the kids were small and thinks it might be nice. She tosses up between a labrador and a kitten for a while before deciding it would be cruel to keep a growing animal locked up in an empty flat most days. She hasn’t even got a backyard, just a spacious balcony out the side of her sliding glass living room doors and a tiny one out the window of her bedroom.

Cam suggests a tortoise and she thinks about it. She asks Jason his thoughts next time they talk—she remembers his fondness for reptiles last time they went to the zoo—and gets an earful of fascinating but daunting care requirements. In the end she thinks it might be a bit too much of an undertaking to justify. She mentions the current progress of getting to pet to Charlotte when she asks about it during their next phone call. She goes into the reasons why she thought no and Charlotte goes quiet for a few long moments. Bernie wonders if maybe she’d bored her daughter. Until Charlotte points out Bernie can get an adult cat who’ll just want to sleep inside most days and go prowling at night. It’s a good point, and one Bernie takes under consideration, until she realises she’d be up and down letting the cat in and out whenever she was home and that’s not fair on the animal either. In the end she decides against getting a pet and just enjoys the slightly under-furnished flat that’s become her new home.

*****

She’s barely been in there two months when the owner decided to put it on the market. Bernie is a big miffed—she’s _just_ gotten everything properly unpack and the way she likes it—and places an offer before they have a chance to advertise to anyone else. She buys it because she doesn’t want to go anywhere, because she knows she wants to stay, because she made this flat her home and everything is just the way she likes it.

Signs the paperwork the weekend before her birthday and thinks of it as a present to herself. She has a housewarming that week as a celebration for moving in without the hassle of having to actually move house. She thinks it can double up as birthday bash as well, for all she isn’t too fussed about that. Cam brings Dom and Charlotte introduces her new girlfriend: Rebecca. The five of them settle into the living room and drink and chat and snack as they wait for everyone else to arrive.

Ric brings a bottle of whiskey and pack of cards, says he’s well prepared in case Bernie fancies some poker. Bernie smiles and says she rather does, actually, and warns him against playing with fire.

“I know it’s practically my birthday, but that’s no excuse to take all your life savings,” she teases. Ric just smirks and shakes his head.

“As if you could,” he bites back, and Bernie lets him have this one. She can always prove him wrong when they start playing later, Bernie reasons.

Raf and Fletch arrive as Ric is dealing, bottle of wine in Fletch’s hand and an apology from Raf.

“Sorry, can’t stay long, got to get back for the kids,” he explains as he kisses Bernie’s check. She’s glad they could come at all, now they’ve sorted themselves out and split their time between ward and their family and figuring out this new part of their relationship. She’s sad it took Raf leaving the ward and coming back for them to finally sort themselves out, but she’s glad they got there in the end.

They stay for a few rounds and she’s reminded that Fletch is rather good. Finds out Charlotte is even better but neither of them have anything on Rebecca. She’s as good as Ric, maybe even better, and Bernie enjoys the challenge.

They play a few rounds and Bernie is astounded by how horrifically _bad_ Raf is at poker. He’s even worse than Dom, who gets overexcited every time he gets a decent hand. Raf folds for the first time that night, having busted himself on every other set, and she think he might have the worst poker face she’s ever see.

Except for Serena, Bernie thinks, her face always shone so bright. The thought of Serena comes unbidden and to the front of her mind and Bernie folds despite having a winning hand. She retreats to the kitchen to refill her glass.

Bernie takes a breath and looks towards the living room. Catches a moment and commits it to memory. A tableaux of Fletch slapping Raf’s back because he just lost again, Charlotte kissing her girlfriend’s cheek because she won in Bernie’s absence, and Ric looking peeved at losing but content at the challenge and sipping at his whisky. Cam and Dom slumped on the couch munching on crisps from the same packet while they wait for the next round to start.

Bernie looks at her living room and the mismatched family inhabiting it and her life. She thinks about the life she’s made for herself here, for all it is missing one person, and smiles because even if it always misses that one person she still has this in her life. Bernie will always have a family all of her own that she loves. She smiles and refills her glass and heads back into the living room to rejoin the others.

Fletch and Raf are the first to bail, apologising as they go. Bernie waves them off, thanks them for coming and sends her love along to the rest of the di Fletchlings.

The boys exit next, Cam is on early and Dom is on call, and they order an uber. Dom heads downstairs to wait and Cam hangs back a moment. He hugs his mother goodbye.

“It’s really good to see you smile,” he whispers and she holds him tighter.

Ric packs up the poker set rather than dealing another hand, says he’s on the ward the same time Cam is tomorrow and that he’d like to have at least the shirt on his back when he arrives.

Bernie honks and waves him off, says she’ll go easy on him when it’s his birthday.

He smirks. “No, you won’t.”

“You’re right,” she admits, “I won’t.”

She can hear him chuckling down the stairwell as she shuts the front door.

Charlotte and Rebecca have already started tidying up the living room when she comes back so she sets herself the kitchen to clear.

Charlotte comes in, ladened handfuls, and points out Bernie can get a cat flap installed in the door leading out to the patio. “If you still want a pet, obvi,” she adds.

Bernie ponders a moment and realises she does. She rather likes the idea of having someone in the house to come home to, even if it’s just for company and not much conversation—she thinks she might prefer that, if she’s strictly honest about it—and nods.

“Would, ah, would you like to help me choose, while you’re still in town?”

“We can go on your birthday!” Charlotte suggests, beaming and Bernie smiles back just as bright.

They tidy the flat and she sees them off. She watches the two walk downstairs hand in hand and smiles as they leave because she knows her daughter is happy.

The weekend ends and she heads to work on Monday. Ric comes down to watch the ward while Bernie takes a proper lunch break because she asked for a favour. She knows it’ll cost her in the end, but it’s a price she’s willing to pay.

Charlotte picks her up with the radio blaring loud enough to fill most of the hospital car park. Bernie purses her lips at her daughter as she gets in the car and Charlotte goes sheepish. She reaches forward to turn it down and they zip off towards a shelter not ten minutes away.  

Bernie’s eyes glaze over as she gets buried under a barrage of adoption information and she wanders off to actually meet some cats and leave Charlotte with the staff to listen. Her heart flips a little at the kittens, they are so very adorable but she knows she hasn’t got the time to care for one properly, and keeps walking over to the adult cats. Two in particular catch her eye: a jet black bombay with tattered ear and a snarling mouth she finds rather endearing, and a mix-breed with long grey fur and a bulk her mother would have described as nobel.

She offers out a hand for them to inspect. The bombay sniffs at her, pretends to be disinterested for a few moments before he starts scenting her. She laughs as he rubs against the back of her hand and he shocks at the sound. She honks harder and he runs away and she thinks she can’t really blame him. The grey is slower to approach but doesn’t play aloof; sniffs a few times and buries her face in Bernie’s palm almost immediately. Bernie is about to start scratching the back of her head when her phone vibrates.

She checks it, thinking it’ll be Ric asking when she’ll be back, and smiles when she realises it’s a happy birthday from Serena.

She looks at the message and acts on impulse. She snaps a photo of the two cats and sends them along with a text asking Serena what she thinks of either of them. She keep the phone in her hand and turns her attention back to the cats, gives the grey the head scratch she intended on before, and Charlotte comes over to join her.

“What you thinking?”

Bernie opens her mouth to say she isn’t sure yet. She feels her phone vibrate in her hand again before she has a chance to reply.

 **Today** 12.35pm  
“I like the grey one’s  
eyes, they remind me  
of the cat we had  
when I was a kid.  
Why? What are you  
doing with cats?”

Bernie smiles down at her phone and up at Charlotte. She turns to the vet hovering in the doorframe and points at the cat she’d just stopped scratching. “I’d like to adopt this one, please.”

The lady smiles and nods, walks off to grab some paperwork.

“You sure?”

Bernie nods at Charlotte and looks at the cat looking back at her. She turns and tilts and snaps a selfie with the cat sniffing her ear. Bernie sends the photo to Serena with the caption “taking one home w me :)” while Charlotte laughs disbelieving.

“Absolutely.”

*

Charlotte drops her back a work and grabs Bernie’s house keys. Says she’ll get the cat settled and start trying think of names because “copper eyes” works well enough as a nickname but grey really ought to have a proper one. The cat mieows in her carrier as if she agrees. Bernie giggles and says she’ll be home early evening if the ward runs well and Charlotte is welcome to stay for dinner.

She walks back into the ward and Ric smiles when he sees her. Until he notices the cat hair on her sleeve and frowns at her quizzically. She pulls her best poker face, runs off to change into scrubs, and the wards runs smoothly on.

She grabs take out on her way home, gets enough for a small feast just in case she’s not eating alone that night, and arrives home with grumbling stomach. It grumbles harder when she sniffs the spice in the air and realises Charlotte cooked as well. Bernie sees the volume of curry on the stove top and the food in her hands and thinks she won’t have cook for at least a fortnight.

She calls out to Charlotte as she serves herself dinner and walks into the living room to find her daughter blinking herself awake with a cat yawning on her stomach.

“Hello you two, already thick as thieves, I see,” Bernie says with a laugh and sits down in the arm chair. “Thanks for cooking, I got chinese as well so there’s plenty to choose from.”

“Sorry, I meant to text but my phone ran out of battery while I was getting cat food for this one.” Charlotte scratches the top of the cat’s head. “I was hungry, didn’t think you’d mind if I used the kitchen.”

“Of course not!” Bernie reassures her and digs into her food while Charlotte dislodges the cat from her lap. “So, any thoughts on names?”

“Yes, actually.” Charlotte stands up and walks into the kitchen. “We had a long talk about this while she was exploring, she was rather fond of Tatiana,” she says on her way back to sit on the sofa again.

Bernie looks at the cat winding herself way around Bernie’s ankles.

“Are you now?” The cat looks up at Bernie with big orange eyes. “Tatiana?” She mieows and Bernie smiles. “Well, that’s settled then, welcome to the family, Tatiana.” The cat mieows again, jumps up onto the arm of the chair, puts a paw on Bernie’s arm and leans over to sniff at her food. Bernie wrenches the bowl to the side and jumps up and Tatiana falls into the middle of the chair. Bernie blinks at the cat as she kneads the cushion, does a few turns, and settles herself in the dint left by Bernie’s butt. Bernie pouts at her lost seat, slumps herself down on the couch, and Charlotte giggles beside her.

*****

Bernie start to notice one of the F1s, Jane Green, starts to outflank her peers. She notices the junior doctor is a lot more tenacious and a lot less frightened than the rest of the pack, that she makes a lot more mistakes but never repeats them, always learns and always does better. There is a steel in her spine that seems rather familiar to Bernie and come the seasonal change Bernie finds herself rather fond of Dr. Green.

She’s hardly surprised when Jane express an interest in a trauma speciality. She is even less surprised when half the F1s under her care follow suit and declare their interest halfway through the year. Bernie knows she’s a good teacher and for all she’s biased trauma is definitely the most interesting speciality there is so she really isn’t surprised.

She finds herself teaching more and more, to the point where she’s mentoring more than giving simple clinical guidance, and Bernie finds she rather likes it. She strikes a balance between practicing, teaching, and management on the ward. She strikes out further to balance work with play and starts spending time with her colleagues out of work again, now she’s satisfied that Cam is settled and flat on his feet, and Albie’s is big enough for the both of them. She likes spending time with her friends and colleagues off the ward when she’s not at home.

She likes having someone waiting for her at home too, someone that doesn’t tax her with conversation but does offer a supportive ear when Bernie needs to talk. They take to sitting on the balcony after dinner, Tatiana curled up on Bernie lap while Bernie rambles. Some nights Bernie stays silent, smoking as she looks up at the night sky to stare at the stars. On those nights she feels so serene, wondering about the moon between drags of her cigarette, as she scratches Tatiana’s head. But most nights she doesn’t smoke and they enjoy the fresh night air as she chats about her day. Bernie thinks Tatiana might be the best listener she’s ever talked it, including her therapist.  

She mentions it Helena, one session, who laughs. Says she’ll take it as a compliment that she’s even remotely comparable to the patience of a cat. Bernie laughs and Helena starts, shocked and delighted. She stares at Bernie with big wide eyes and Bernie keeps honking. Helena joins with her own giggle after a few beats. Eventually they both calm down, and Helena mentions that’s the first time she’s ever hear Bernie laugh.

Bernie frowns, not at the lack of laughter before now—therapy doesn’t usually deal with the most humorous of topics after all—but at why the laughter now. She flops her head to the side, silent and deep in thought, until she realises.  

She thinks about everything she has in her life, all the things in her life that make her happy, and knows this is enough. She’s made a life for herself here, made a life for _her_ that includes her family and her work and her colleagues. She knows her life is enough as it is now. Because she’s not living for any single thing, not the way she used to, and she’s made a for her life, and this life is enough.

Helen is looking at her, usually open face frowned quizzical.

Bernie smiles, can’t help the giggles, and realises.

“I think I’m rather happy.”

*

She stays happy until August rolls around and Hanssen approaches her with an offer. He invites her to his office to ask if she’d consider taking on some managerial duties.

“You’re work with the junior doctors is impeccable, your ward is running efficiently, perhaps the most efficient it has ever run, and the board and I believe it would be in both yours, and the hospital’s, best interest, if you were to move up into management.”

Bernie blinks at him a few times from across the table. Accesses the situation to make sure that this is, in fact, not a dream. If the nip of her fingers on the flesh of her thigh is anything to go by, this is real. Very much so.

She almost laughs in his face. Somehow she manages not to.

Bernie politely explains that she has no interest in administration, and never has. She says that she’s more than happy to lead the ward, to train new doctors—more junior doctors that she currently is, if that’s something that would benefit the hospital—that she is committed to hardening the skill of trauma specialists wherever necessary. She is more than capable and content to do all that, but nothing more. She thanks him for the consideration but makes it clear that she has no interest in taking on the responsibility offered.

Hanses nods his head, stoic and stony faced, and she knows he isn’t the least bit surprised at her answer (she wonders if maybe the reasons for offering was to prompt the counter-offer of taking on more students. He’s a shrewd thinker, she knows that, and she wouldn’t put it past him).

She considers ending the meeting there but stays sat. She doesn’t stay silent.

Bernie reminds Hanssen the while she has no interest in management, there is someone with far better qualifications who does. She reminds him that Serena was always the one with her eye on CEO, that she is has been beyond qualified for the position for far too long. She says that not matter who else they ask, if they want the best, they ought to offer it to Serena if she comes back.

Hanssen says he already have. Says that he asked if she was ready to return. Says that she told them no. That she’s still not ready to come back yet, content to stay living in the South of France, for the moment. He says she sounded well, almost happy, but not quite ready to be back.

Bernie doesn’t say anything at all. She goes back to AAU, sits in her office, looks at the empty chair Serena used to occupy, and smiles. She smiles because Serena sounds well and almost happy and she isn’t _quite_ ready to come back. Smiles because Serena isn’t ready to come back but that maybe she will. Serena might come back and Bernie is still here and everything is just fine.

*****

Everything stays fine until the end of September. Not that anything goes wrong then, given it stays fine at the beginning of October as well. Stays fine except for the bit where Bernie wake up when the month clocked over, texts Serena happy birthday, goes to work and doesn’t hear anything back. Doesn’t hear anything back all day.

Bernie tries not to read too much into it, but so far Serena had never not replied whenever Bernie had reached out to her, so she reads into it a little bit. She hopes that Serena is okay and safe and well and she tries not to read into the silence too much.

She’s still trying to read into it too much when Raf invites her over the Albie’s when they clock off. When he says that he fancies a drink but Fletch needed to get straight home and he doesn’t fancy drinking alone. When he asks does she want to join him.

She says yes, she rather does, actually. She thinks it’s fitting for two of the closest friends Serena ever had in the hospital to celebrate her birthday in her absence, even if they’re not actually celebrating her birthday.

She gets the first round, puts a pint in front of Raf and sits to settle herself in the tall chair. She leans on the high table and sips at her glass of shiraz. She blinks at her wine, wonders at what point in the year and a half since she’d last drunk it had she forgotten the full-bodied flavour of red wine, and takes another sip. That mouthful tastes like it’s supposed to and she smiles over the top of her glass.

They chat and joke and laugh and Raf order some chips when he buys the next round. Bernie munches happily, sipping on her now white wine, as Raf fills her in on the kids and their latest antics. He’s half way though recounting the prank Evie and Mickey pulled on Fletch over the weekend when he trails off mid-sentence.

Bernie watches as his eyes go wide and his mouth falls open and he breaks out in a huge smile. She smiles and turns, expects to see a surprise Fletch walking through the doorway. After all, who else—other than the kids, of course, but it’s far too late for them to be rolling into a bar—could make Raf smile that?

She turns towards the door, expecting to see Fletch, and feels her own mouth fall open. Feels her eyes go wide and her heart thump in her chest. Feels the world slow down, just for a moment, as it falls down around her ears.

She blinks, disbelieving, and slides out of her chair. She stands in front of the table, her hand on the back of the chair and her legs trembling. She takes a step forward and tries to talk. She hears herself fail when her voice comes out a whispered croak. She takes another step forward and clears her throat and tries again.

_“Serena?”_

**Author's Note:**

> fic title inspired by RMC's [Weighty](https://open.spotify.com/track/5CSFrV4CjTxLTcHyph6cDe) (high!key music recommendation) and chapter titles takes from [John Legend's "Love Me Now"](https://youtu.be/NmCFY1oYDeM)


End file.
